Heart Grows Fonder
by RochelleRene
Summary: Cuddy has to leave town for a few days... No biggie right?  Huddy love/smut per my usual. F*** this hiatus! I don't own these characters, BTW, David Shore does.  Otherwise they'd be ON TV RIGHT NOW! :
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"So I have to go out of town for the rest of the week," Cuddy told House as he walked into her office. She was shuffling files and clicking on her mouse simultaneously, preparing things for her impending absence.

"When?" he asked.

"Tomorrow," she replied. "It's part of the hospital peer review process. I have to serve on the review panel for a hospital in Phoenix. Normally, they only make us do it every few years, but they asked me because one of the reviewers is suddenly ill. "

"Well, that sucks," House replied. "But you know what they say… 'Absence makes the heart grow hornier.'" Cuddy smirked at him briefly before digging back into her file drawer.

"I'm so relieved you'll be able to cope so well with this lack of daily support and companionship," she replied sarcastically. House flopped into an armchair and put his feet on the coffee table.

"I'm a big boy, Cuddy," he replied smirking at her. "I don't think I'll fall apart."

"I'd also request that you not destroy this hospital while I'm away," she warned.

"_That_ I cannot promise," he retorted.

Cuddy rolled her eyes and started sticking post-it notes on various files. "Thanks for your reassurance," she said.

"Anything for you," he replied, watching her organize her organization.

She looked up at him. "What are you doing in here anyway?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I just like looking at you," he explained, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head.

She smiled. "Oh yeah, you're not going to miss me at all," she observed.

He shook his head saying "Nope," but grinned at her.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

House came into the bedroom to find Rachel throwing clothes out of suitcases as quickly as Cuddy was putting them in. "Jesus, woman," he commented. "You're only going for four days!"

"You get to be low-maintenance," she explained. "You look good in un-ironed shirts and sneakers. Women have more demands made on them."

"_I_ think you look damn good in un-ironed shirts and sneakers," he countered, flopping on a strip of the bed that was not covered in clothes. "I don't know why you don't wear them more often."

She smiled at him quickly, before pulling a blouse out of Rachel's grasp. "I told Wilson I was leaving. He's gonna check up on you," she informed him.

"Cuddy, has it occurred to you that I am a fully-grown man who functioned just fine for decades without you?" he asked, letting his head sink into the pillows and closing his eyes.

"Define 'function.'" Cuddy countered.

"Touché," he replied. "But if you're concerned about my well-being and happiness, you'd provide Vicodin and hookers, not Wilson."

She glared at him. "What do you think I'm worried about?" she said with a mock evil eye. She picked Rachel up and moved her behind her, where the toddler started pulling Cuddy's make-up and toiletries out of another bag. House reached down and pulled Rachel up on the bed and gave her an airplane with his good leg. Cuddy watched him out of the corner of her eye. Rachel was laughing, but House was just staring at her the way he stares at a lab test result – like he was contemplating her.

"You're gonna miss me," she warned him.

"Parts of me will miss parts of you," he agreed. "I'm sure I'll find a way to stay occupied," he told her. "With you out of town, I'll have plenty of time to snoop through your stuff."

She laughed. "Have fun, House. You've seen my worst – You created my worst! I didn't get scandalous until you," she explained.

"I'm sure I'll find some rock I haven't turned over yet," he threatened. Cuddy was unfazed and walked into her closet.

"Oh yeah! Shit! You might find those crotch-less panties… that _you_ bought me," she called out. "Or the naked photos… that _you_ took." She walked out holding a pile of clothes that she dropped in her suitcase with a sigh. Then she walked back into the closet. "Maybe you'll have better luck in my office," she advised. "You might find files in which I approved reckless medical treatments or signed off on breaches of confidentiality." She reemerged somehow holding four pairs of shoes. She looked right at him with a smirk. "Face it, House," she told him, "_You're_ my dirty little secret."

House looked up at Rachel who was still laughing. "You hear that, kiddo? Your mom is a devious tramp, and you have _me_ to thank for it!"

Rachel laughed and said, "How-s!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was late when House finally left his team at the hospital, the unsolved case still rolling around in his head. He unlocked the door and walked into a silent house, a little after 9pm. Cuddy was gone, Rachel was at her grandma's, and he was alone in the emptiness. It was strange to be on his own in the evening and even stranger in this setting because his 'alone' place used to be in his apartment. Cuddy's house represented a very different life. He felt an overwhelming boredom settle on him right away and with that realized how much of his life, as much as he may have resisted, had started to revolve around these two females.

He flopped down on the couch with his Chinese take-out and flipped on the television. He was staring at the screen, trying to zone out, when his phone rang. Cuddy was calling, having just gotten out of her meetings due to the time difference.

"I'm walking to the hotel," she told him. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. Solving medical mysteries. Foiling bad guys. Making love to beautiful women," he replied through a mouthful of food.

"Wow!" Cuddy exclaimed. "All at once?"

"I'm incredibly efficient with you gone," he explained.

"What are you eating?" she asked. "I'm starving."

"Moo shu," he said, taking another bite.

"Mmmm," she replied, "Maybe they have a Chinese place around here." She scanned the stores as she walked. House could hear the quick, efficient click of her heels on the sidewalk.

"They have one here," he said, grinning. "Come have dinner with me." He stood up and walked over to the computer.

"Awww, House," Cuddy sang, "You miss me."

"Whatever, Cuddy. Just sick of hearing you whine about being hungry," he retorted. "What intersection are you near?"

"Why? Ummmm…. Van Buren approaching 24th," she told him.

"Okay," he said. "Turn left. Left on 24th," he directed. "There's a Magic Wok on the right side of the street. Not the best Chinese, but it'll do." Cuddy smiled.

"So I can eat Chinese with you," she said "You're a sap underneath."

"Woman, shut it, before I stop being thoughtful," House said, flopping back onto the couch. "I'm taking you out to phone-dinner cuz maybe then you'll have phone-sex with me," he clarified.

"Mmm. A phone date. We'll see how nice dinner is. If you play your cards right…" she hinted.

"You look stunning tonight, Cuddy," he joked, though he was sure she did.

"So far so good," she answered. "Hang on, I'm ordering." House waited while he heard Cuddy order food. He kept smiling in spite of himself. There was something about her being gone, about, yes, missing her, that made him 'feel funny' all over again. Not that he was about to admit it. He heard her pay and then the purposeful click of her heels as she resumed her walk.

"Oh, please, let me carry that for you," he joked.

"Thanks so much, but I can manage," she joked back. "Such a gentleman."

"That's what they all think," he teased.

They chatted about the her work on the review panel, his latest patient, all sprinkled with teasing insults and sexual innuendo while Cuddy made it back to the hotel, dumped her coat and briefcase, and ate her dinner out of the carton. When she was done eating, she thanked House for finding the Chinese restaurant for her.

"Not a problem," he said, his voice regaining its sexual, flirting tone. "Have a drink with me?" Cuddy smiled.

"Hmmm… I really shouldn't. It's getting late," she teased, reigniting their mock date banter. "I have to work in the morning. But… I'm having such a lovely time…" She walked to the room's minibar to see what it had to offer. "I suppose one drink wouldn't hurt." House grinned - She was so damn fun. He heard the light tinkle of small hotel room liquor bottles.

"What's your poison?" he asked. "Do they have tequila? Please drink the tequila if they have it. I love Tequila Cuddy," he reminded her.

"It's your lucky night," she said.

"I'm hoping so," he murmured into the phone. "Mind slipping a ruphie in it so you're a sure thing?" Cuddy chuckled.

"I'm not sure those work as well for the phone-sex thing," she cautioned.

"Mmm," he agreed. Just hearing her say the word sex got him excited. Cuddy twisted the cap off the tequila. The hotel was nice and this was the good stuff. She took a swig of the tiny two-shot bottle and he heard her exhale into the phone as it burned down her throat. "The woman knows how to drink," House commented.

Cuddy sighed, sinking into the zillions of soft pillows on the bed, kicking her shoes off. "I miss you," she half-whispered into the phone. There was silence. "And I _know_ you miss me, deny it all you want," she taunted.

"I'm enjoying my freedom, Cuddy," he teased.

"Yeah," she retorted, "You're counting the days."

"Cuddy, I get what I want," he explained. "If I missed you that badly you wouldn't be there. I'd chain you to the bed," he joked.

"Ah, so I'm good enough to ruphie, but not to waste your time with bondage," she retorted. "I'll send back all those whips and blindfolds I ordered."

"Finish your drink," he suggested. He heard her breathe out as she downed the second shot.

"You drinking?" she asked, already getting that relaxed sing-song to her voice. Ah, the foreshadowing of Tequila Cuddy.

"Yup," he lied. He didn't need, or even prefer, to be drunk for these sorts of things. He knew she didn't need to really either, but that the convenient excuse of '_I'd had a few' _permitted her to allow herself more leeway than she normally did. A couple of drinks and she'd let her guard down, indulge her baser instincts, let go of worries – Tequila Cuddy.

"Hope it goes with tequila," she teased, "Cuz that's what I taste like." She delivered that last line with precision, knowing it would stir him up, beginning this little game. She heard the slightest exhale on the line. "Do you want to kiss me, House?" she asked.

"Cuddy, you have no idea," he warned. "If I was there, your lips would be bruised already," he told her. He heard her sigh a little. He continued. "I'd sit on the bed and pull you in front of me," he told her. "And at first I'd just look at that amazing body of yours, clothes and all," he said. He heard her breathing get the slightest bit louder. "I'd run my hands all along you, before I slowly started undressing you… I'd slide the zipper of your skirt down... I'd unbutton your shirt," he teased.

Cuddy hummed in anticipation. "And there I'd be in my underwear, House. And you'd feel my body heat as I climbed onto you, straddling you. Can you feel me? The weight of me on your lap?" House was sitting on the couch, his eyes closed, listening to Cuddy's voice, and his pelvis reflexively pushed upward a little. He let out a little groan and Cuddy's buzzed and turned-on mind was encouraged. "I can feel you underneath me. I can almost taste your mouth," Cuddy breathed into the phone, her words developing a slight slur as the alcohol was rushing deeper into her system.

House didn't know who was getting who off here now - their continual power struggle. "You can't anymore, Cuddy, cuz my mouth is sliding down your neck," he said in his low voice, "And my hands are pulling your head back so I can lick that little hallow at your throat." He heard her breath puff into the phone. "My hands are unhooking your bra and sliding it off of you, and damn you are gorgeous, Cuddy," he continued. He could picture the little grin such compliments produced, like she was refusing to admit she cared what he thought, but couldn't help it.

"I know I am," she retorted, "That's why you lean me back and start kissing my breasts," she explained. God, he couldn't decide which was more fun – talking or listening to her. "And I'm squirming in your lap, House. You're making me crazy -"

"You _think_ I'm making you crazy," he interrupted, "Until you feel my fingers slide beneath your panties. Now you know what crazy is," he explained. "You feel that, Cuddy?" Cuddy was lying back on the bed, trying to mimic his hand with her own. Not the same, of course, but his voice was helping to trick her mind a bit. "You feel me?" he asked again.

"Mmm," she murmured, getting lost in it. "Do _you_ feel _me_?" she countered. "You haven't forgotten, in one little day, what I feel like have you?" she asked him teasingly, the words coming out haltingly as her desire heightened.

"Not in a million days, Cuddy," he replied. He heard her sigh that sigh he knew so well. "I can smell your hair. I can feel you arching up against my hand. I can taste your mouth," he continued, his own breathing making it harder to talk, but not to think. He couldn't _stop_ thinking.

"House…" was all she managed to get out. He smiled. She was relenting, letting him seduce her.

"You're helping me get my damn cloths off, Cuddy, and I am on you, pushing down on your hips, and your shoulders," he told her. Her breathing was rhythmic now, but fast and shallow. "My hips are between your legs, Cuddy, and you feel me pushing against you," he continued.

Between panting breaths she reminded, "My panties are still on," with a small laugh.

"I know that," he lied. Always a stickler for details, this woman. "I'm ripping them off as we speak, okay? Satisfied?" She laughed.

"Not yet," she told him.

"_Now_ that you can _really_ feel me pushing against you…" he continued, undeterred, "I hear your little whimper," he said.

"What whimper?" she asked.

"God, Cuddy, just trust me – you whimper," he scolded.

"Kay, sorry," she apologized. She relaxed into the image, feeling her body rise up to an invisible House on top of her, and she let out this tiny cry.

"There it is," he pointed out. She smiled. "And that's when I know you want me," he explained. He paused, turned on beyond belief, but waiting to see where she was at, how into this she was. After a half minute of silence she protested.

"God, House, don't stop this on me," she complained, almost whispering. Now _he_ smiled.

"I'm pushing into you, Cuddy," he said and he heard her cry out. God, this was amazing. He was doing this to her over a goddamn phone. He felt omnipotent. "And you feel amazing and I'm looking down at your perfect face," he said. She was doing that thing now where she held her breath and let it out in sudden little puffs, inhaling again immediately only to hold it. "My mouth is on your neck and your chin, and your ears," he continued, "And my body is inside your body." His hand holding the phone was going numb, all his blood rushing south. He switched hands and ears. He could picture her writhing on a hotel bed and he wanted to be with her so badly that despite his turned-on body, his heart ached a little. "I'm moving in you, hard and fast and deep," he continued, "And your hips are pushing up against me. I'm holding your face and kissing every inch of skin I can reach," he told her. "Can you feel all this?" he asked.

"Gjdfnjk" was his answer, which he took as an affirmative.

"And I feel you tightening around me. I know you are getting close. I have my hands on your back now and I'm pulling you up against me," and he almost could feel her hot smooth skin on his palms. He took a breath, hoping his next words would push her over the edge, not break her momentum. "And I can't even kiss you anymore, Cuddy, cuz you feel so good and I'm just fucking you silly."

He heard her cry out, beginning a perfect song of breath and voice he knew by heart. He'd done it – well, he was sure she'd assisted, but it was a team effort. "And I can't take it anymore. I'm over the edge and I'm right there coming with you, Cuddy," he told her, still hearing her cries of riding high. He just breathed into the phone, wishing he was the type who was able to imagine it was all real. But as much as he loved describing it all to her, the thought of getting off right now with her across the country made him sad. "I'm collapsed on you and kissing your neck," he said softly, hearing her slowly descend. "And I'm not rolling off this time, Cuddy, since it's my fantasy. You can deal with it," he joked. He heard her laugh a little, this stuttered breathless sound.

"God," she finally said, "Thanks."

"So can I see you again?" he teased.

"We'll see," she retorted. "Call me." He laughed. A half minute passed. "House," she half-murmured, half-whispered, "I'm fading. Jet lag."

"I know. Just fall asleep," he told her. "Then, I'll hang up."

They were silent for a minute or so. House walked to the bedroom and got under the blankets still in his clothes.

"I do miss you," she whispered sleepily.

He hesitated, despite her words warming his shriveled little heart. Why couldn't he just admit it too?

"I know you do," was all he could manage. "You'll be home before you know it," he said to comfort himself, more than her.

He listened to her breathing get more rhythmic as sleep overtook her. He lay on his side, facing where Cuddy usually lay, and listened to her breath until he was almost asleep himself. He kept his eyes closed, shut his phone, and pretended he could still hear it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Wilson walked into House's office carrying his coat and briefcase. House had his feet propped on his desk and was tossing his ball in the air. Skipping the greetings, House asked, "What would be funny to fill Foreman's locker with?" Wilson paused, then dumped his stuff and flopped into House's chair.

"Why do you ask, might I ask?" Wilson replied.

"I'm gonna fill Chase's with Valtrex, Taub's with Rogaine, and Masters' with chewable Flintstone vitamins. But I'm stuck on Foreman…" House explained.

"And you're doing this because?" Wilson probed.

"Team bonding," House replied. "Builds morale."

"So you're just skipping over the trust fall and all that stuff…" Wilson teased.

"Maybe Valium?" House was brainstorming. "He's a tense guy…"

"When are you planning to do this?" Wilson asked.

"Tonight," House replied. "Hemmorhoid cream?"

"So this morning you removed all the screws from my desk chair - nearly castrating me when I fell, by the way - and now you are planning drug plants on your team?" Wilson recounted. House ignored him.

"Maybe," House said, getting excited, "It'll fuck with him more if I _don't_ fill _his_ locker…"

"I think someone's lonely," Wilson sang in a teasing tone.

"Some of are dedicated to our jobs around here," House responded with mock indignance.

"Your case is over," Wilson reminded him. "You should have left hours ago."

"I have other responsibilities besides saving lives, Wilson" House explained.

"Aww, House, you miss Cuddy!" Wilson exclaimed.

"Jesus!" House cried out exasperated. "If I hear the word 'miss' one more time I'm gonna lose it. What's with all this analysis of the missing – she misses me, do I miss her. Blah, blah, blah."

"You don't seem to understand that your jaded, damaged soul schtick makes you fascinating to observe in emotional situations," Wilson chided.

"Ah, that must be why no one has any interest in your healthy balanced self," House retorted, beginning to balance the ball on the hook of his cane.

"True, healthy is boring. But damaged is… well, damaged," Wilson explained.

"You could stand to be a little rougher around the edges, Wilson," House retorted. "Maybe we could get you addicted to something. Or get your uncle to molest you."

"Thanks for the ideas, House, but I think I'll go home and iron my socks," Wilson replied, standing up and picking up his briefcase. He looked at House who was still concentrating on bouncing his ball off his cane and thinking of an appropriate medication for Foreman. "Or we could go get shit-faced?" he offered. House looked up. "Their lockers will be waiting for you tomorrow. And I'm sure you'll have an epiphany about what to do to Foreman while we're out – probably right after I say something important and soul-baring." House caught the ball midair, twirled his cane like a baton, and stood up.

"Good idea," he proclaimed, grabbing his jacket and backpack. "Let's go rough up your edges, Wilson."

As they exited the office, Wilson asked, "You're not gonna molest me, are you, House?"

House clicked his tongue and wrinkled his brow in thought as he limped toward the elevator. "I _do_ miss Cuddy…"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

When Cuddy finally got in, hours past schedule and long after her phone had run out of battery, she found House sitting on the couch, asleep with the television on. He'd waited up for her, probably worried, tough he'd never admit to it. She dropped her bag and purse in the hall and walked over to him, head laying back against the couch. She straddled his lap carefully and stared at his scruffy face. His eyelids rose gently and he smiled slightly. She held his face in her hands and gave him a small kiss while he moved his hands to her hips.

"Take your coat off, stay a while," he murmured. She grinned down at him, watching him try to blink the sleep out of his head. He took his hands from her hips to rub his face vigorously. He slid his hands over hers and squeezed them gently. She kissed his forehead. He reached down to the belt of her trench coat and unknotted it. She smiled mischievously to herself as he unbuttoned her coat and opened it. He slid it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then met her glinting eyes. "Nice outfit," he said.

"Thanks" she said, glancing down at the wrinkled button-down shirt she had stolen from him the day she packed. "You said you think I look good in it," she reminded.

"I believe I said, 'damn good,'" he corrected. "But, Cuddy, you didn't have to steal my shirt" he continued, "I like you in anything when you omit the pants," he teased, running his hands over her thighs. She laughed at her own boldness now, recalling how she had traveled the whole trip in a trench coat covering her half-outfit. What had this man done to her?

House pulled her closer against him and she buried her face in his neck. "I missed you," she whispered, shamelessly fishing for reciprocation. He was never one to take the bait.

"I told you you would," he teased. "You've gotten used to my constant devoted attention." He could almost feel her roll her eyes and this only made him smile. He moved a hand up into her hair and felt her lips against his skin, wondering how five days had felt so long. What had this woman done to him?

He ran his other hand up her thigh and over her hip to her torso, feeling the smoothness he had missed. "Did you miss me?" she asked playfully, sitting up to give him a half-grin. He lifted her then and laid her back on the couch, moving on top of her. He looked right in her eyes, kissed the tip of her nose lightly. He pulled at the shirt and the buttons ripped open, some falling right off to the floor. He stared at her with a small smile.

"Nope," he replied, and she saw his eyes twinkle before they closed and he kissed her. She felt his hands run over her chest, down her sides. She arched her head back as his stubbled face moved over her chin and down her neck. His hand had moved between her and the couch and he was fumbling with her bra.

"Not even a little?" she whined, still teasing.

"There wasn't time to miss you," he explained, sitting back and pulling her back up on his lap to slide the shirt off of her back and her bra down her front. "What with all the hookers and drugs." She gave him a mock dirty look. He stood up then, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. She closed her eyes as he ran his hands up along the sides of her almost-naked body. She was sighing with contentment at the feeling of her familiar bed and these familiar hands, when she felt something cold against her wrist. Before the little "click" could fully register, he had rolled to the side of her and started running his hands along her body, watching her face to see her reaction.

He'd handcuffed her to the bed. She smiled at him. "You _did _miss me," she said triumphantly. He grinned at her.

"I admit nothing," he replied coolly. "This is merely a classic male fantasy that I decided you owe me after a week of sexual deprivation," he informed her. She nodded, still smiling. "Stop smiling like I gave you a present, Cuddy! You're supposed to look turned on and a little nervous," he chided.

"Oh, right," she said. "Sorry." She wiped the smile off her face and gave him her best exaggerated hot-for-you face. He gave her a half grin.

"That's better," he said, stifling a laugh. "Need I remind you that I have a decade's worth of hot-for-teacher power dynamic sexual fantasies stored in the recesses of my perverted mind. You need to take this more seriously." He ran a finger over the features of her face, causing her to close her eyes, feeling the feathery touch of him glide over her cheeks, her eyelids, her lips. He traced her nose and she felt her first urge to pull his face to hers, only to feel her arms immobilized, the erotic sensation of this finally hitting her. His finger glided down each lip and her chin, down her chest, sternum, and stomach, making small circles just above her pantyline. Her breath was growing more rapid now, and her hips shifted. She was gorgeous, and it was awesome that in this scenario, he could just stare at her and it came off like sexual teasing, not an overwhelmed admiration. He studied every dip and swell of her shape, re-memorizing them. He watched her chest rise and fall, looked at the parted lips those gusts of air rushed between. Her lids fluttered slightly and he saw the deep blue-gray of her eyes flicker and disappear again.

House bent his mouth to her stomach and kissed her, then kept his forehead there and just inhaled the smell of her skin. He heard metal grind against metal as the handcuffs slid along the bedrail. He slowly turned his head from side to side, running his stubble along her soft skin, sliding a hand up the length of her leg. "House," she gasped, assuming this was all choreographed for her tortured benefit. She didn't understand - he was getting lost in her.

He moved his body between her legs and slid her panties off. He looked up at her and she looked down at him, mouth open and breathing hard, but smiling a conspiratorial little smile at him. He lifted her leg and kissed the back of her knee, slowly lowering it as he licked and kissed his way upward. He felt her hips buck up, her heels pushing into his lower back. She felt his breath on her and whimpered, wriggling beneath him. He laid his hands on her thighs and softly kissed her sex, pushing down against her reflexive push upward. He kissed her again, tasting her more this time. Her legs bent, urging him on. He heard that metallic scrape again as she cried out, "God, House, please. I need to feel you," and his adoration shifted then, turning primal and possessive. He wanted her wanting him, craving his presence the way he had craved hers. Needing him.

He pressed his mouth against her, pushing against all the spots he knew by heart. He moved his hands to her pelvis, his thumbs at her hipbones and his fingers pressing into the softness of her ass, and he kissed and licked and breathed on her. He led her up, up, up, then sadistically retreated, coaxing her away from the edge, just to hear his name from her lips and the sound of her arms fighting to come down to his head. "Dammit, House!" she yelled, in a voice usually reserved for work. He clambered up her body and rested his hands on her chest, his chin on his hands, and looked up at her. She looked at him confused and flustered.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go out of town for five days now. And you know what? You're _really _gonna miss me," he teased.

"Gah!" she exclaimed. "House! Stop. Teasing. Me. Right. Now." she told him.

"I'm coming with you next time," he told her, kissing his way back down her body. Cuddy sighed and arched up against him.

"Fine. Yes. Whatever. Just. Go." she gasped out between sighs. She felt his attention returning to all her key spots and the spring that had been coiling in her core felt ready to explode, if he would just concentrate and…

House pushed his chin against her and gave her heat a long, deep, penetrating kiss. Cuddy exploded. She cried out nonsense and involuntarily tried to sit up and made it halfway before the handcuffs caused her to slam back against the mattress. House continued exactly what he was doing, changing nothing, and her body stayed tense in his arms for one of the most erotic minutes he'd ever experienced. When he felt the waves finally receding, he mimicked them, easing his pressure, slowing, until Cuddy was a panting pile of crazy above him. He smiled into her skin as he nuzzled his way up the side of her body, feeling her pull away as his stubble tickled her armpit.

He lay there watching her lovely post-bliss face recover its composure. "Welcome home," he sang quietly in her ear. She gave a gaping sort of laugh, her eyes still closed, but her smile lighting up her face. It was weird. When she smiled with her eyes closed, he swore he loved her smile most. When she wasn't smiling and looked at him, he swore he loved her eyes. And, well, when she smiled with her eyes open, he was just done for and had to either kiss her or find some reason to insult her and stomp out of the room.

Cuddy turned her face to look up at him, blinking her vision back into focus. "I want to touch you," she whined. He grinned and grabbed the key off the bedside table and leaned over her to unlock one of the handcuffs. Before he could even remove the other she had her arms around him and he felt the sensation of warm palms and cold metal sliding up his back. Cuddy pushed one hand against his chest, urging him onto his back, and she straddled him. He felt the handcuffs cool against one side of his ribcage as they still dangled from one of her wrists. Cuddy grinned wickedly down at him and he met her mischievous stare with his own. "'I'd chain you to the bed,'" she repeated his words from earlier. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" she asked him in a scolding voice.

"I've always maintained that actions mean more than words," he retorted, sliding his palms up her perfect thighs and letting his eyes roam over her body.

Cuddy pushed her hips down against him and gently rocked her pelvis. "So what does this action mean?" she asked. House's eyes closed as he relished the sensation of her body against his.

"I can't quite make it out," he quipped. "You'll have to speak up." He grinned, eyes still concealed, as his breath hitched. She loved that little boy grin of his. And she loved when he was more serious and his blue eyes burned into her. And when he grinned that grin while looking at her with those eyes, well, she was just done for.

"Oh, sorry," Cuddy replied, shifting her body so that with the next rock of her hips he moved slowly inside her. House tried unsuccessfully to muffle a moan. Cuddy bent and kissed that grin and his mouth rose up to meet her. He felt like a thirsty man finally drinking – the taste of her, the feel of her on his mouth, the knowledge that he could have as much as he wanted – he felt a little delirious.

"Got it," he still managed to articulate somehow, "Loud and clear."

"You know," Cuddy said, moving slowly around him and leaning on her elbows so he could feel her breath on his neck, "For someone so pro-action and anti-word, you never really shut up."

"I'm a communicator, Cuddy," he replied, "Good communication is the cornerstone of a good relationsh– Jesus!" Cuddy ran her mouth along his shoulder and picked up the pace of her hips, pushing down at a slightly different angle. She felt his fingers digging into her ass. She sat up and slid her hands down his chest, trailing cold metal behind the path left by her hot hands. She leaned back, planting one hand on his good thigh and the other on the mattress next to his roughed up leg. His hands rested on her knees as she moved on top of him, driving herself higher while he took in her unbelievable sexiness through half-closed lids. She leaned her head back and he felt the very tips of her hair tickle his legs. He slid a hand up her stomach, reaching for more of her, but felt a sudden tightening of her abdominal muscles, of her thighs against his hips, and as he watched her start to fall - her body trembling and writhing against his - his brow furrowed in concentration, trying to make it all last as long as possible, but he was overcome with the physical and emotional sensations of having her again and in the next moment he was banging his head against the pillow, fighting to keep his vision focused on her, and forgetting where he even was. Cuddy felt his body pushing up against her in frenzied thrusts, heard him holding his breath, and saw his face grow slack-jawed and glassy-eyed. This was the out-of-control House moment she loved to create. She fell on top of him and they lay there catching their breaths and returning to earth.

House eventually began tickling her back slowly with one hand. Then he rolled her over, wanting to just nuzzle and grope her some more. She reached her arms around him and then he heard the unmistakable metallic sound of handcuffs clicking shut. He looked at Cuddy who was smiling sneakily at him. "Now you're stuck with me," she explained, having handcuffed her arms around his torso.

"Not one of your wiser moves, my love," House warned. "This is just too good." He saw a look of confusion and mild worry cross over Cuddy's face. House sat up, which pulled Cuddy with him. He pivoted around in the circle made by Cuddy's arms and the handcuffs so that his back was to her. He made a big production or stretching and bending before standing up, leaving Cuddy seated on the bed with her arms reaching up around him. "You better hop on, woman," he warned her. "I need a snack."

"House," Cuddy laughed, "Just hold on." She stood and started to guide her arms upwards so she could disentangle them over his head, but he kept his arms down, not letting her do so. "House!" she cried out as he started limping to the door, dragging her with him. She quickly jumped up on his back, laughing, but reminding him, "Your leg will kill!"

"My leg always kills," he reminded her, "And you need a lesson in thinking through your impulsive ideas." He limped to the kitchen and started getting himself a bowl of cereal.

"House!" Cuddy protested again. "Just let me off of you!" She was still laughing, but also wary of the sick and slightly sadistic way his mind worked. She started trying to tickle his belly and chest.

"You know I'm not ticklish, Cuddy," he reminded her. So then she started using her feet to threaten his most sensitive areas. He pinned her ankles to his stomach with one hand while he carried a bowl of cereal in the other and limped to the living room. He flopped onto the couch, pinning her abruptly, but gently, between the seatback and his body. Keeping her ankles still, he set his cereal down, flicked on the television, then picked up the bowl again and released her ankles just long enough to stick the bowl in her handcuffed hands before recapturing her feet.

"How do you know I won't dump this all over your crotch?" she asked, her voice threatening.

"Because your expensive couch will smell like rotten milk," he explained. She pouted.

"House!" she protested. "This is crazy! Let me out!"

"I don't know, I kind of like this, Cuddy," he explained, his mouth full of cereal. "For once you being on my back is a pleasant experience. … I think it's the nudity. And the food. And the television. Now shush - I want to hear what this 'Desperate Housewife' has to say." He acted like he was settling in and getting cozy, but was really just making a production of squishing her. She finally gave in and laid her chin on his shoulder and watched the guest being interviewed on the late night talk show.

"That's not a 'Desperate Housewife,'" she corrected. "She's a 'Real Housewife.'" House took a spoonful of cereal and offered it to her and she begrudgingly accepted, feigning indignance when actually this was quite comfortable. That was the thing with House – He was unpredictable and stubborn and always seemed to outwit her, but it all ended up kind of nice, if a bit weird.

House rubbed the side of his head against hers as he stared at the television and said, through another mouthful of cereal, "Missed you."


End file.
